Day 2,420

There have always been soldiers in the woods, translucent and armed with outdated rifles. Their uniforms are unmarked - nothing to tie them to a particular country or regime, only blood to tie them to a brutal death. For all our searching we've never found any bodies, aside from the unfortunate few who stray into their line of sight.

There's always more casualties in the summer when the dappled sunlight through the trees makes it almost impossible to spot them until they're practically beside you. The lucky few who've survived being shot by the spectral bullets are never quite the same, always cold and pale, always bleeding from their soul.

There are nineteen recorded attempts at exorcising the soldiers and cleansing the woods of their presence. Several different denominations came forward and most of them came back hanging their heads and bibles as all their words fell on the silent ears of the dead.

There have always been soldiers in the woods and it seems there always will me.